


Normal

by Aurora_bee



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Autism, Drugs, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-19
Updated: 2012-04-19
Packaged: 2017-11-03 22:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurora_bee/pseuds/Aurora_bee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life before and including making his first real friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Normal

Normal

Nothing was normal about the way the child came into the world. Born after a 48 hour labour with a heart defect and an elongated head from the forceps. They said he looked like a purple cone head with an extremely long almost alien body. Nobody took photographs of the exceptionally ugly newborn in neonatal unit. But his mother visited often, stroking his hair and looking into his apparently enormous blue eyes.

Nursery school was dull. Finally getting to go on the seesaw then discovering no one wanted to sit on the other end was disappointing. At least everything was covered in foam, so being pushed off the climbing frame several times a day didn’t hurt.

Infant School was a bit more interesting. A playhouse with a kitchen and living room. Only two children allowed at a time, bliss. But that didn’t apply if one of the children was him. Happily he played in the kitchen making pretend tea, while the other child played in the living room. Another child decided they wanted to help him. He asked them to leave nicely several times but they ignored him. ‘Biting a hole in their stomach was not acceptable way to get someone’s attention’ he was told as the headmaster suspended him. 

Primary school was ok, his teacher liked him. The school organised a weekend trip and he was allowed to go. The first day they visited a working farm. While he was looking at a cow in a nearby field he didn’t look where he was walking and ended up falling bum first into a steaming cow pat. Being striped naked and hosed down in the middle of a farmyard with freezing cold water was a new experience. Not one he’d be likely to repeat. At least the teacher made sure the other children were looking at something else.

High school was a nightmare. His first day he queued with the other children to get his lunch. A girl pushed in front of him. Politely he informed her that he was in fact first. She punched him in the face knocking his bottle top glasses across the gravel. Not quite understanding what happened he picked them up, put them back on and walked back to the girl. He told her again and received a second punch in the face, now his glasses were scratched. He resolved to bring sandwiches in future and considered the possibility of contact lenses.

Then the worst happened, he fell in love. The boy was short, blonde, with blue eyes, a squint and braces. But he knew the boy was ‘normal’, and longed to be like him. He would spend hours working out how much it would cost to run away with him. Fantasising about their life together. He finished school and never saw him again. It was for the best.

University fitted slightly better, although he didn’t like the dorms and the shared bathroom smelled odd. He had acquaintances that would come to his room for a cup of tea (or something stronger) and ‘chat’. Difficulties would arise when people chose to visit at the inappropriate times. The acquaintance hiding in his cupboard would occasionally jingle the hangers and give the game away. It went unnoticed for the most part but it wasn’t something he wanted to share. Sex was something he did that distracted him when there was nothing else to do.

Life after University was a myriad dead end jobs, alcohol, and drugs cumulating in slight mental breakdown. Somehow he managed to get back on track and find a way of using his talents in a way that was considered useful to society. Of course not everyone believed that, certain people called him a freak and a psychopath. But it doesn’t hurt because he knows they’re wrong. He likes to tell them he’s a high functioning sociopath, he’d rather they think that he doesn’t care. He prefers to understand the proper definition of what he’s calling someone. He wouldn’t like to be stupid.

He never tells people the truth about himself. The word autistic seems to change most people’s view. But the way he learned to pay attention to every detail to cope with interacting is why he’s so good at what he does.

He decided it was time to move especially after the ‘incident’ in his flat, or what was left of it. Although he’s always felt ‘alone’ he actually likes having someone there, someone to remind him to eat. He mentioned that he was looking for a flatmate over coffee one day in to Stanford at the morgue. The same day his acquaintance turned up with an old friend. He could see he had some issues, the biggest being a psychosomatic limp. He showed off his skills and gave him a condensed version of his life story. He liked this man, John, an unusual thing in itself. 

John turned up at the flat the next evening. Showing off hadn’t deterred him, but then he knew it wouldn’t. John was different, but good. He found himself in a taxi explaining to John how he knew his life story. John had told him it was ‘amazing’, ‘extraordinary’ even, and didn’t tell him to ‘piss off’. He was sincere, it was refreshing. He would pay John back for the kindness that he’d showed. No one had ever really complimented him, and he had known he was doing something fantastic, something positive. He also knew he had John hooked and how to use it to his advantage. He wanted to give John something back, something only he could.

Running though London at night was exhilarating. He couldn’t help looking back occasionally at John running behind flushed with life. Grinning and chasing a serial killer seemed particularly odd even to him, but he couldn’t help it. They arrived at the flat both grinning ear to ear. Panting they leaned against the wall.  
‘Doctor Watson will take the room upstairs.’ He shouted to Mrs Hudson. John looked shocked, questioning him.  
‘Says who?’ John replied.  
‘Says the man at the door.’ On queue someone knocked the door. John opened the door puzzled. The man at the door smiled and gave Johns walking stick back to him. He’d given his life back to him. John was overjoyed, and he couldn’t hide his pleasure at Johns smile. Unfortunately it was short lived. 

He almost did something incredibly stupid the same night. Just when he had found something he never thought he would. He was in the realms of disbelief, this feeling couldn’t be real. The other half of him, the special amazing part that when put together makes a whole. He went to put a pill in his mouth, death in a capsule, or possibly not (he wasn’t 100% sure, the pills got mixed up). Then in a flash his error was undone. 

He didn’t know, not until he saw John standing there outside. John had saved his life. A man he’d known for little more than 24 hours. A good man, the best man. In that moment he swore to himself no one would ever hurt this man, he would go to the grave protecting him from harm. He had to contain his excitement. He wanted to scream from the top of his lungs ‘I Sherlock Holmes, have a friend.’


End file.
